Page 41 of The Baxters
Cast and crew had the same idea, so Dayne changed his mind. “There’s a street vendor at the other end. Juice and ice cream.” He released his hold on her and took her hand instead. “Come on.”
In every movie Dayne had filmed, he’d had a deep friendship with his leading lady. This time with Margaret Ellen was only slightly different. He really liked Margaret.If they weren’t both superstars he might’ve dated her. Maybe even married her.
They slipped away from the crowd and bought a couple of juices. This was his drink of the day—morning and night, actually. Dayne didn’t imbibe when he was filming a movie, not ever. He saved his partying life for between films. The precious little time when he wasn’t working.
Dayne took another guzzle and faced Margaret. “I think it’s possible.” He could feel his lazy grin making its way up his face.
“What’s that?” She flirted with him. “We might need to reshoot that kiss scene?”
Across the street, paparazzi had made their way closer. Anything to get a picture of Dayne and his costar. Dayne nodded to the empty storefront a few feet away. “Let’s check out the local wares.” He led the way to the building.
Then without looking back at the myriad of photographers, Dayne ushered Margaret inside. It was even muggier in here, but it wasn’t the first time the two of them had slipped away. Found a quiet place where no one could bother them.
Dayne figured their producer and director knew he needed alone time now and then. Otherwise why were all the storefronts empty for the shoot? The production company had rented every single one—in case they needed the space.
Or in case Dayne needed it.
He slipped out of the leather jacket and worked his fingers into Margaret’s hair. “I think it’s possible you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever kissed.”
“Hmmm.” She let herself get lost in his eyes. “You’ve kissed a lot of girls.”
Another grin. “Exactly.” Dayne closed the distance between them and kissed her, long and slow. “It’s okay, right?” He kissed her again.
“This?” Now she took the lead and this time their kiss lasted longer. “Practice, you mean?” She eased back and laughed. Then again she kissed him. “Best part of the job.”
Three seconds of bliss and the door to the storefront swung open. Barrett stood there, eyebrows raised, clipboard in hand. “Your ten minutes is up.” He contained a chuckle. “I need Margaret.”
“Just practicing, boss.” Dayne saluted. Then he cast a long look at Margaret. The two of them would’ve practiced a whole lot longer if they’d had the chance. Maybe later. Her look said she felt the same way. Dayne turned to Barrett once more. “I’m here when you need me, boss.”
“You’ve got another ten at least.” He headed for the door with Margaret. Before they left Barrett glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t make me come looking.”
“You got it.” Dayne leaned against the storefront window and watched the two leave. A hundred cameras were aimed at the door, so for now Dayne would stay here. However hot it was.
What a day. Best job any guy could ever have. Hebreathed out, allowing himself to relax for the first time in hours. Moments like this were rare, just him and his thoughts. No one asking his opinion about a scene or telling him where to stand and how to talk and what to do.
No one aiming a camera at him.
He stared down the busy street and a memory came to mind. His family visiting a city like this one when they were on furlough fifteen years ago. Back when Dayne was just thirteen years old.
As if they were standing in front of him, he could see them again. His dear parents, the kind missionary couple who had adopted him and raised him. Only when they were on furlough did his parents spend much time with him. They had believed that God’s work came first—before family.
Which left Dayne with the same question every time their one-month breaks ended. Why had they adopted him? Why take on a child if you didn’t plan to spend time together?
One year after another, Dayne had been raised by teachers and counselors and guardians at the boarding school for missionaries in Indonesia. He studied math and English and history, but his favorite class was drama. He loved the idea of playing someone else, someone whose parents hadn’t abandoned him.
And all during those schooling semesters, Dayne’s adoptive parents spent their days flying around in a twin-engine plane telling people about Jesus.
Dayne narrowed his eyes, the memory still crystal clear. His parents had been like kind relatives. An aunt and uncle, maybe. Certainly not parents. They missed far too much of his childhood for that.
Meanwhile, nearly everyone they came in contact with found faith in Christ.
Everyone but Dayne.
A deep breath filled his lungs. The news had come to him at the strangest time. Dayne was eighteen, taking a final in history when the door to his classroom opened. Eleven other students were in the room, and all of them looked up.
There in the doorway was the headmaster, his face red, his eyes filled with alarm.
“Dayne.” The man stared at him. He was out of breath. “We need to talk.”
